Renegade (18 page)

“Bosh,” Brady said huffily. “My uncle never drinks and drives. You can drop the charges and tear up that bond. This is all a mistake.”

“It is not a mistake,” Cash said firmly, moving closer to the mayor, whom he towered over. He looked threatening. “My officers made a legitimate arrest. They have the results of a breath-analysis test to back it up. The senator is over the
legal limit for driving. He is being issued with citations for the offense. That's the law.”

Brady turned red in the face. “We'll just see what our city attorney thinks about that!”

“He'd better think that these officers are hired to en force the law,” Cash returned. “And before you question that,” he added when Brady started to speak again, “you'd better remember that Simon Hart is the state attorney general.”

“Which won't help you…!” Brady raged.

“The Harts are my second cousins,” Cash replied quietly, and there was a sudden stillness in the room. He hadn't made that bit of information public before.

Brady turned to the senator. “Uncle, I'm certain this is all just a mistake. Go along with what they want you to do for now. I'll set up a disciplinary hearing for the arresting officers next month and we'll get to the bottom of this. You won't object to that, I hope?” he asked the chief of police.

Cash only smiled. “Why should I? My officers did nothing wrong.” The smile faded. “But they will not be suspended, with or without pay, until they are formally charged with misconduct and given the opportunity to defend themselves.”

Brady looked as if he wanted badly to make that charge, but he was intimidated by Cash. “Very well,” he said huffily. “Your people will be notified when to appear in city court.”

“You'd better look for another job,” Julie Merrill said hatefully.

“Oh, I have a job, Miss Merrill,” Cash replied pleasantly. “I have no plans to resign.”

“We'll see about that!” she scoffed.

Cash smiled at her. She actually took a backward step and rejoined her father and the acting mayor with out saying another word.

 

M
INUTES LATER
, the office was cleared of civilians. Only the bookkeeper—smiling smugly—Cash and his two patrol officers were still in the building. He glanced at his two distraught officers. “What?” he asked, when he saw their expressions.

Garcia shifted uncomfortably. “We thought you'd want us to resign.”

“That's right,” Hall agreed.

“Like I can just go out and pick up two good patrol officers any time I feel like it in a town of less than two thousand souls!” Cash exclaimed.

“It's going to be messy,” Garcia said. “I've seen this happen before. Old Sergeant Manley arrested a city councilman for drunk driving years ago, and they fired him. He was a year away from retirement. Chief Blake never said a word.”

Cash met the other man's eyes evenly. “I'm not Chet Blake.”

Sergeant Garcia managed a smile. “Yes, sir. We, uh, noticed.”

Cash stood up, with Hall beside him.

“Thanks for standing up for us, Chief,” Officer Hall said. “But we're willing to resign, if we have to.”

“I'm not resigning,” Cash said easily. “Neither is anybody else, for doing his job. Or her job,” he added with a grin at Hall.

“They won't make it easy,” Garcia persisted. “And we don't have legal counsel. We're such a small department that there's no attorney on staff.”

“We might get Mr. Kemp,” Hall ventured.

“I'll get legal counsel,” Cash told them in a pleasant tone. “You're going to find that a lot of people around here are tired of politicians bypassing the law. We're going to put a stop to it. And nobody's quitting. Got that?”

They smiled, not really believing him, but more hopeful than they'd been when they walked into the room.

 

C
ASH WENT HOME
, tired but satisfied. He should have been surprised that Tippy was still up, waiting for him in the living room.

“I told Sandie to make sure you went to bed!” he grumbled.

“Don't blame her,” Tippy replied, wrapped up comfortably in a gown with a quilted robe covering up all of her, except her hands and feet and head. “She can't stay up late. Once she was asleep, I got up again. I felt like sitting up for a while, that's all,” she lied. Actually, she'd been afraid that something had happened to Cash, and there was no way she could have slept until he was home.

He had one of the strangest feelings he'd ever known in his life. He couldn't remember a single time when his wife had waited up to see if he'd come home or not, even when he thought she loved him the most. He was completely alone. Now, here sat this gorgeous woman with red-gold hair and haunting green eyes, a woman who was idolized by men everywhere. And she was sitting up on his sofa waiting, because she'd been afraid for him.

He didn't say anything. He removed his pistol and its holster and put them away, frowning curiously.

“You're angry,” she surmised.

He didn't look at her. “I don't know how I feel.”

“You could lie down on the sofa and tell me about your childhood,” she suggested with a wicked little smile.

He cocked one eyebrow and gave her a long look. “If I lie down on a sofa, you're going to be lying down on it first.”

Her cheeks showed just a hint of embarrassment. “Bruised ribs,” she reminded him.

“Oh, they'll heal,” he replied. “Then look out.”

“It's no use, you've already said you won't marry me,” she said with a big grin. “I almost never play around on sofas with confirmed bachelors.”

“Spoilsport.”

He sat down in the easy chair next to the sofa with a heavy sigh and removed his neat tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his blue shirt to reveal a spotless white T-shirt underneath it.

“Want to talk?” she asked, without pushing too hard.

He frowned. “I've never had anyone to talk about things with,” he said conversationally. “The one time I was married, my wife hated my job.”

She searched his eyes. “Something's upset you.”

“Will you stop reading my mind?” he demanded, slinging his tie onto the coffee table.

“It isn't deliberate,” she tried to explain. “And, if you want to know, it's more of a curse than a blessing. I can only read negative things, like danger and emotional unrest.”

He leaned back and crossed his long legs. “You can tell when something's wrong with Rory, can't you?”

She nodded. “Since he was very small. I had it with my grandmother, too. I knew when she was going to die, and how.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her slender body. “I saw it in a dream.”

“It must unsettle people when you tell them about it,” he remarked.

She met his eyes evenly. “I've never told anyone. Not even Rory.”

“Why?”

“I don't want to freak him out. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have the gift. My mother certainly doesn't,” she added. “What will happen to her?”

“If she's involved, she'll serve time,” he said. “Kid napping is a federal offense.”

She was quiet for a long time. “If they sent her to prison, maybe she'd dry out.”

He smiled quizzically. “You don't think prisoners have access to alcohol and drugs?”

“They can't,” she replied. “Not in prison.”

He leaned back again and closed his eyes. He was tired. “Honey, you can get anything you want in prison. It's another whole social structure, with its own hierarchy. Anyone can be bribed, for the right amount and the right reason.”

“You're very cynical,” she noted, still tingling from the endearment he probably hadn't even realized he'd used for her. They were all alone in the world, and talking like husband and wife. It made her feel warm all over.

“I know all about the world,” he said wearily. “Most of the time, it's a dangerous, joyless place with few compensations for the pain of going through life.”

“Family is a powerful compensation,” she remarked.

He opened his eyes and looked at her coldly. “Family is more dangerous than the outside world.”

She knew that. It showed in her quiet, haunted eyes.

He grimaced. He hadn't meant to attack her. It had disturbed him that she knew he was upset. He never talked about the job, except to other people in law enforcement. Tippy knew too much about him, and he didn't trust her. He didn't trust anyone.

She could see the future in his face. He would fight with every breath to keep her at arm's length, both physically and mentally. He didn't trust her not to hurt him.

“You even know what I'm thinking right now, don't you?” he growled.

She blinked and looked away. “I think something happened
at work that made you angry, and you're holding it inside because there's nobody you can talk to about it. Nothing that happened to you personally,” she added. “But to someone you like.”

It was like a small explosion when his hard-soled shoes hit the hardwood floor as he got to his feet and stalked out of the room.

Tippy sighed. She didn't want to upset him any more, but it was dangerous for him to keep things bottled up. Stress was dangerous, even to a man of Cash's good health and fitness. If only he could talk about his problems. She smiled to herself, remembering what he'd said about his mother and father and the turmoil of divorce. First his stepmother, then his wife, had betrayed him in the worst way. He could trust another man far easier than he was ever going to be able to trust a woman.

She got to her feet slowly. So much for her hopes. He was going to spend her whole convalescence pushing her away. It wasn't surprising, but it was painful. Without trust, no deeper emotion was ever going to develop.

With a slow gait, she went back down the hall to her room and pushed the door shut gently. She peeled off her robe and climbed into bed, producing her copy of the Plinys to read, because she still wasn't sleepy.

Five minutes later, there was a brief knock on the door and Cash came into the room with a tray. On it were a cup of hot chocolate and some ginger cookies.

“Don't get your hopes up,” he muttered as he closed the door and put the tray down on the bedside table. “I'm not conceding defeat, and I'm not talking to you about work.”

“Okay,” she said easily. “Thanks for the bedtime snack.”

He stood up, looking at her with clinical interest. Her creamy shoulders were bare except for pink satin straps that held up her lacy pink gown. Her breasts were high and firm
under it, and he remembered without conscious thought how it felt to put his mouth on them and make her moan with pleasure.

Tippy noticed his interest and pretended not to. She sipped the chocolate. “This is good,” she commented.

“It's a packaged mix. I can't make it from scratch.” He was wearing just the undershirt now, with his slacks. He looked worn.

She tried one of the ginger cookies. They were delicious.

“Mrs. Garcia sent them, along with the biscuits and preserves we had when we got here.”

“They're very nice.”

He took a long, sharp breath. “Two of my patrol officers arrested a politician for driving drunk. He's trying to have them fired, and the acting mayor, his nephew, is putting pres sure on me to do it. He wants me fired as well.”

She swallowed the rest of the ginger cookie. She was tingling all over. He actually was willing to talk to her about his job! It was a milestone. She had to fight tears. “He'll have his work cut out,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He was pleasantly surprised at her confidence in him. “Yes, he will,” he conceded. “I've gotten used to Jacobsville. Even if I'm still something of an outsider, I seem to fit in here.”

“You like it,” she said.

He smiled faintly. “I like it a lot.” He watched her eat another cookie. “You look pretty in pink. I thought redheads didn't wear it.”

She smiled. “I don't, usually, but Rory gave it to me for Christmas, along with the robe.”

“I thought so.”

“I miss him.”

“I'm sure you do,” he replied. “But he's far safer in military
school than he would be in New York. The minute school's out, we'll bring him here.”

“Thanks,” she said huskily. “He really likes you.”

“He's a fine young man.”

“Bristling with hero worship,” she added demurely.

He chuckled. “He'll learn that idols generally have feet of clay.”

“Not his,” she said without looking up. “His is the genuine article.”

He didn't speak for a minute. He knew she was telling the truth. But he didn't want her feel that way about him. She was overwhelmed with her first pleasurable experience of intimacy. She liked what he could make her feel. That was a result he was used to. His former wife had liked him in bed, too. But when she knew all about him, knew everything, she wasn't able to bear having him touch her. It was going to be that way with Tippy, too. She was attracted to an illusion, not a flesh and blood man.

“I'm going to bed. Need anything else?” he asked.

She looked up. He was solemn. It would do no good to ask questions. She only smiled. “No. Thanks for the hot chocolate and cookies.”

“No problem. See you in the morning.” He hesitated. “If you need anything in the night…”

“I know, Mrs. Jewell is right down the hall, and there's an intercom.” She pointed to it on the bedside table. “She told me before she went to bed.”

He nodded. He hesitated for a minute, as if there was something else he wanted to say but couldn't think what it was. Then he started for the door.

But he hesitated when he had the knob under his hand. He didn't look at her. “Thanks for waiting up,” he bit off.
Before she could recover from the shock and answer him, the door had closed behind him.